Hank Summers, DarkHunter?
by J. Maria
Summary: Hank Summers might not be father of the year, but just maybe he had a really good reason for not being there for his daughter.  Part One of the Resurrected 'verse.
1. Into: Time Well Wasted

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-18 for imagery.  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter  
Summary: Hank Summers isn't the world's greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain  
A/N: Set at the end of season two, because thats the last we saw of Mr. Summers for three seasons! Inspired by a challenge focused on the semi-negligent parents of the Buffyverse (Ira & Shelia Rosenburg, Mr. & Mrs. Osbourne, Mr. & Mrs. Chase and Hank) in a more positive light. I picked Hank because, well, I did.

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

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Into: Time Well Wasted  
1998

Hank Summers was never going to win Father of the Year. Or Husband of the year either. He'd wanted to commit his daughter, had divorced his wife, and had taken the house. To be fair, they'd actually sold the house and spilt the proceeds, but in his daughter's eyes he'd taken her childhood home away.

His job - a job he'd hated taking in the first place, out of necessity to feed his young family - kept him in L.A. and nowhere near his troubled teenaged daughter. He'd spent only a few weekends with her and the three months of summer vacation had seemed like too little, far too late. He didn't know his family any more, and everything he'd tried to do to keep them together only seemed to drive them further apart.

No one would mourn him when he was gone. He was fairly sure no one would even note his absence, and that was entirely his fault. He smiled sadly at his captors, knowing the joke was on both of them.

"Go ahead, you might as well kill me. The slayer will never come for me," Hank laughed miserably.

They were ugly scabbed mottled gray demons, over-anxious to kill his daughter. He might not be a considered good dad in his daughter's eyes, but he'd be damned if he let anything hurt his little girl who'd once wanted to a figure skater when she grew up. Blood trickled down from a gash in his forehead, another on his abdomen, back and chest. Six of his fingers had been broken, three removed completely, and he couldn't hear out of his left ear anymore.

"Sire! We've found her!" One of the demons gave a low grating yell of success.

"Where is the little bitch?" the head torturer demanded.

"The Boca del Inferno. Sunnydale."

Hank fought not to let any recognition cross his face. They could be just guessing, and watching for his reaction. There was no way in hell that he was going to let her down now that she really needed him. The head torturer slid his gaze toward Hank.

"Who gave you this information?"

"A bloodsucker."

A resounding crack rent the air as the messenger went sprawling at the feet of the head torturer. He raised his bloodied whip again and slashed heavily against the messenger's stomach.

"You damn fool! No vampire is reliable!"

"The slayer killed the Master, bested both William the Bloody and Angelus time and time again! Everyone speaks of it!"

"And the Anointed One?"

"Well, the Bloody one claims that as his own kill, but it was the Slayer who weakened his following so greatly and left him open for attack."

The head torturer grinned maliciously at Hank's tensed form before nodding to the messenger. The slavering horde behind them cackled and howled with malevolent delight.

"She's not there! She's in Torrance!" Hank yelled, glaring at the messenger. "He just doesn't want to be beat anymore!"

"And you said you'd never spill your guts to us and to just kill you!" The monster snarled, his long wicked dagger tore through the slight paunch of Hank's stomach, his intestines and blood slipping from him and curdling around his knees.

Hank blinked in confusion, his mind not registering the pain and blood loss. What it did register was the head torturer's final words to him.

"Don't worry, we won't kill little Buffy not until were done playing with her. She'll beg for death just like you did, and we'll tell her you told us her secret with a song in your heart."

Hank's scream gurgled from his lips and he wanted nothing more than to kill them all. He needed to save his girls - Joyce and Buffy. His wife that he still cared for and the daughter he'd once sung to sleep as an infant. His little girl.

"You sure are a screamer. Huh. You're a corporate fool. You're kind aren't supposed to have any fight in you."

Hank blinked up at the woman that none of the others seemed to notice. She was a stunningly gorgeous red-haired woman dressed in a long flowing white gown. Her manicured fingers tapped her blood-red lips.

"Help," Hank murmured, trying to focus on the woman.

"Help you do what, exactly? Bleed more?"

"Have to save my little girl," His whole body was getting limp and heavy, and he couldn't feel anything but a biting cold.

"From what?"

"Demons - kill her -have to - save Buffy and - Joyce. Not strong enough."

"Not alive enough," the woman sneered. "Certainly not fit enough, even if you weren't already dead."

"Have to...save Buffy. All...my...fault."

"Technically? I'm not allowed to interfere, and you're really not a warrior. But even I heard your death knell. If I give you the power and the strength to save your child, what would you offer me in return?"

"My life."

"Already cashed in."

"Anything...everything."

"Including your soul and your new lease on life?"

"Anything...everything."

"Acheron won't be pleased...but he never seems to be pleased with me anyway."

Her fingers brushed through the gaping wound at his stomach, the skin stitching itself up, and the burn of a double bow tattoo formed on the slight bulge of his belly. He gasped in pain as life coursed back through his body. He blinked up dumbly at the woman - strike that, the Goddess Artemis who now owned his soul. Information swamped his senses before he could really take in her next words.

"You get to kill that particular troupe of demons, thus saving your daughter from that threat. But you will never see her or her mother again. You're my Dark-Hunter now. I own your soul, your allegiance and your body. After youve killed them, I will send you to your commander, Acheron. Is that understood, Henry James Summers?"

"Yes, Goddess?"

When Hank blinked his eyes again, he stood before the demons. They looked shocked at seeing the dead man before them. They didn't have time to be anything else. Hank Summers' vengeance was swift and painful. And the Slayer got to evade the one troupe of demons that could have attacked her when she was reeling from the loss of her entire world.


	2. One: Out Tonight

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter  
Summary: Hank Summers isn't the world;s greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain  
A/N: Hank in a bar, because all of my characters are forever in the bar. Possible slight plot spoilers for _Night Pleasures_ and _Kiss of the Night_.

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

__

One: Out Tonight  
1999

Henrik Somners threw back the shot, waiting for phone call that should have come hours ago. Only one person besides Ash had that number, and she'd only called it twice in the last year. Once to tell him her daughter came home and another warning him away from her graduation. Two calls lasting less than a minute total in the longest twelve months of his life.

Henrik Somners was a good looking man, and more than one woman had tried to sidle up next to him in the crowded bar. Heavy rock music grated his ears as his curling blond hair hung in his eyes. He was six foot even, his eyes black, and his body leaner than it had been in eighteen years. His own mother wouldn't even recognize him, much less his wife and daughter.

Scratch that. _Hank Summers'_ mother, ex-wife and daughter wouldnt recognize Henrik Somners. Hank Summers was as good as dead, dead-beat father that was enjoying a mid-life crisis and a younger mistress. Henrik snorted into his second and final shot of the night. He'd been with one woman since his rebirth as a Dark-Hunter. One since the divorce, and one after the change. Two women in three years. What a joke.

The rock music screeched to a halt, the band quickly breaking into the distinctive tune of 'Sweet Home Alabama'. The Spanish people and tourists who didn't know better hooted a bit, but the ones in the know understood who it heralded. Sanctuary wasn't the only place that warned every Apollite, Daimon, Dark-Hunter and any other immortal or just plain 'other' that Acheron had entered the building.

"Crap."

"Nice to see you too, Padre," Ash chuckled, plopping down beside him.

"Atlantean, you just sent the Romper Rooms into a tizzy," Henrik sighed, tossing back another shot.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't already know. And it isn't just me sending 'em into a tizzy. Some of 'em want a bit of the Papi, too."

"They're five years older than my daughter," Henrik muttered disgustedly.

"Whose daughter?" Ash's voice took on a rough edge.

"Hank Summers' daughter, the man I know like a brother."

A year of training, of accepting his new identity and he still slipped up. Henrik slid his gaze over to Ash, knowing those swirling silver eyes were watching him behind the dark glasses. He still remembered the scene he and Acheron had made after Artemis had dumped him on the older Dark-Hunter. Henrik had been reeling from the revelation that even if he saved his daughter from the demon horde that the monsters of her world would still come after her. Still try and kill her. Ash and Artemis had broken that to him, and it hadn't gone well. But Ash had given him a reason to fight on. Every Daimon Henrik killed left one less monster to hunt down his little girl.

"Not that a Daimon, Dark-Hunter, Were-Hunter, true immortal, or Apollite would ever be stupid enough to _visit_ Sunnydale much less move there," Ash had snorted. "There are rules even we stick to following for our health and sanity."

Henrik shook his head, missing what Ash had said now.

"...blew up a high school, but she's unscathed."

"Huh?"

"The news. In SoCal? Pretty little blonde girl and her graduating class nuked the school. Big ass snake too. Her family was safe, and there weren't too many casualties."

"Nuked the school?"

"Yeah, when blondie celebrates she goes all out."

"Ash."

"No, you cannot go see her. That area is a no fly zone, and I really don't think you want to have your wings clipped."

"No. I know." Henrik took in a deep breath. "Thanks, Ash."

"Yeah, yeah. Make it up to me and drop a calming line out to the Viking before he bubble-wraps his squire. Or out to Kyrian before he's tempted to strangle Nick again."

"Or out to you before you spoil Simi more?" Henrik grinned.

"Nah, me and Simi have got a good system. I spoil her rotten and she lives with it. Now you, go kick some Daimon ass for us all, Padre. Vent a little."

And that's exactly what Henrik Somners aka Padre aka Hank Summers did with the rest of his night. Just because he couldn't be there for his little girl.


	3. Two: A Place Called Home

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter, I own Sheyle.  
Summary: Hank Summers isnt the worlds greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain  
A/N: The previous chapters worked similarly to how the seasons played out. With Dawn popping up in season five but not being present at all during the first four years of Buffy in Sunnydale.

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

__

Two: A Place Called Home  
2000

Birthdays were hard for him. It was hard to not call his girls and wish them good luck or happy birthday or sweet dreams. It was hard to not pick up the phone and ask Joyce how Dawn and Buffy were doing. His fourteen and twenty year old baby girls.

Henrik frowned. Wait a damn minute, who the hell was Dawn? He snatched up the photo of Joyce, Buffy and - who was that little girl? What the hell was she doing in his family photo and why the hell could he kind of-sort of remember having a second daughter?

"Is everything okay, boss?" a young dark haired woman asked, poking her head in his office. He glanced up at his squire, Sheyle Hernandez. She'd taken over from her father Julio a few months ago, but had trained under him.

"Yeah, hey, Shey?"

"Hmm?"

"You've seen this picture before, right?"

"Of your cousin and his family?" Sheyle asked, glancing down at it.

"Yeah. Does it look any different to you?"

"Yeah. Dawn wasn't in it before," Sheyle nodded.

"You know her?"

"Your cousin Dawnie of the whining phone calls begging to talk about the new Harry Potter books with her dad? Yeah. She's hard to forget. By the way, boss, you have got to stop covering for your shit-head cousin. The kid's gonna end up thinking you really are her dad one of these days."

"I talk to her?"

"Yeah. Once a week. She's always really snotty with me, calling me an uber-skank. As if I would sleep with you." That stung a bit.

"You were saying Dawn wasn't in the picture before?"

"Yeah. She was sick when they had the first picture taken and Mrs. Somners forgot to send the redo. She sent it like a year ago."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Anything else before you go out for the night?"

"Nah, just, um, remember to stay out of the clubs tonight."

"Not a problem, boss. I've got tons of work to do here."

Henrik was on the phone to Ash the second Sheyle had left the room. This Dawn thing was seriously not good.

"Padre, you want the shitty news or the really shitty news?" Acheron asked on the second ring.

"Is she evil?"

"No. But bad shit's coming their way."

"How bad?"

"Blood and death bad."

"So a normal Tuesday for Buffy?"

"A bit."


	4. Three: Not For Me

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter, I own Sheyle.  
Summary: Hank Summers isnt the worlds greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

__

Three: Not For Me  
2001

"Grief is a phantom limb -"

"Sheyle, knock off the crappy platitudes," Henrik snapped, his eyes hidden behind the dark lens of the sunglasses.

He stared out at the graveside mass through the nearly-illegal tinted windows of the car Acheron had arranged for him. Henrik didn't even want to contemplate what his boss was gonna have to pay to Artemis for this little jurisdictional violation of his. But it wasn't everyday that a man's wife got buried. It wasn't every day a man got to see his baby girls grieving as if their world was gone. And it was. They were left alone with no one but their friends. None of Joyce's family had been able to come. They were too far flung and too wrapped up in their own grief to have made it back in time.

Sheyle had just come back from the graveside herself, having gone to give the girls her and his condolences. Buffy had just nodded, not really taking it in. Dawn had been so angry. Probably at him and God. Maybe a bit at Buffy, and definitely at the hospital for not curing her mother. Henrik couldn't say he didn't share three of those four sentiments himself.

"I told them I was their father's cousin's personal assistant. They didn't recognize the name," Sheyle said softly.

"Hank doesn't talk about our family often to the kids. Bad blood."

"Hank doesn't talk to his kids. You talk to his kids and pretend to be him. Where the hell is the loser? That's his wife being buried there," Sheyle muttered, leaning back in her seat.

"His ex. He left when things got rough. He's a bastard who can't be counted on by anyone."

"Sorry, boss, I didn't -"

"It's true. Hank Somners is a waste of a human being."

"Yup. He's lucky his daughters have you to step in for him."

Sheyle didn't ask him anything more, just settled in to keep a look out on the gravesite and Buffy who stood there alone. He didn't answer her, because he was fairly certain his girls wouldn't share the sentiment. So they sat and waited. Once the sun set, she pulled the car around behind the Crawley mausoleum and let him out.

"I'm gonna stick around and keep an eye on her. Maybe go keep her company."

"Do you need me to stick around boss?"

"No, sweetheart. Why don't you head back to the place Ash found for us. I'll be back before sunrise."

"You better, or it's my ass and you know how Otto would be if I fucked up royally my first test Stateside."

"Don't invite anyone in, okay, Shey?"

"Why?"

"Sheyle, just don't invite anyone in," Henrik squeezed her hand. "Get in and lock the doors behind yourself. Sunnydale is - dangerous."

"Sunnydale? Dangerous?" She scoffed.

"Sheyle."

"Fine! I'm headed straight there."

Henrik watched her pull away, and prayed she'd stay safe. She was the closest thing he had to family - besides his girls - and he didn't want to fail watching her back. Not when Ash was going through hell for him to sneak into town under the radar. Henrik was one of the very few who knew what the bitch Goddess put him through for his men. And that was only because Simi had slipped up and Ash hadn't been able to stop her from blurting it out in time.

Henrik shook his head and watched his girl - Buffy - from afar. She stood alone, but not for long. A tall dark haired man came to comfort her. They were there together for a good part of the night. And then he watched them drift apart and away. The man got into his car and she walked. He followed her home, tailing her at a distance, making sure no one bothered her.

And then he slipped back to Joyces grave. Henrik slipped the chain around his neck off. He couldn't stay, not for too long. Cemeteries held restless souls, eager to not be dead anymore and he was a viable, powerful host. So he dug quickly at the stone that bore his late wife's name. He pressed the ring to his lips before dropping both chain and ring into the small hole.

"Sorry I couldn't save you, Joycie," A tear rolled down his cheek.

_You can't save everyone, Hunter, and I wasn't meant to be saved. Not really_. The voice trickled over his ears, shocking him. _Take your girl home. Sunnydale's not safe for Hunters and Squires, Hank. I appreciate the effort, but keep yourself safe. You've got a very important job ahead of you._

Henrik twirled around, looking for the voice and finding himself completely alone. He glanced at the spot above the gravestone. For a second he thought he saw Joyce.


	5. Four: Nobody's Home

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter, I own Sheyle.  
Summary: Hank Summers isn't the world's greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain  
A/N: Because where was he when Dawn was being raised by the Buffybot and the Scoobies?

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

__

Four: Nobody's Home  
2001

There was no one answering the phone at the house. For three weeks, Henrik had been leaving unanswered messages for his daughters hoping for some kind of response. It wasn't like Dawn not to call back. Something was definitely wrong. And since he couldn't get a pass back into Sunnydale from Artemis or Acheron, he needed a way to relieve the stress that was eating at him.

"Sheyle?" Henrik barked, tugging on his leather biker jacket as he marched through the door after a night of scouring the city for Daimons proved useless. The bastards had gone to ground, and hadn't given him the fight he needed to take his mind off of his daughters.

Sheyle was sitting beside Acheron in his study and Henrik _knew_ that the bad things he'd hinted at when Dawn had popped up had finally come to pass. He knew by the heartbroken look in Ash's eyes, and the devastation on Sheyle's face. Acheron muttered something to Sheyle who only nodded and scampered from the room.

"Which one?"

"Padre -"

"Which one of my daughters is dead? Or is it both of them," Henrik hissed, images of his little girls flashing through his mind. It didn't matter that Dawn wasn't really his, that she was - _whatever_ she was. Losing her would hurt just as much as if it were Buffy.

"You need to come with me."

Henrik nodded, and before he knew it he was in Ash's home. It was ultra white, and the Simi looked as devastated as Sheyle had looked. Hovering beside her was a small, lithe figure with shining blonde hair. Henrik felt like someone had punched a hole in his chest. His daughter's ghost was here, which meant -

_"Daddy?"_ Buffy whimpered, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. "_The Simi said it was you but I didn't believe her_."

"Of course its me, baby," Henrik whispered, going to her immediately. She threw her arms around him, and he feared that she would simply _slip_ through but she was solid.

_"I had to do it. I had to save Dawn."_

"I know, baby. God, do I know," and h'ed have done it for her, sacrificed himself to save them. But he'd already done it once, and couldn't do it again.

"He_ says I can't go to heaven. That I'm not meant to go yet, but that he could bring you here._ _But Dawnie needs you - now that Mom and I are -"_

"I swear to you, I will take care of her. Nothing's going to happen to her on my watch."

Buffy nodded against his chest and Henrik felt his heart shatter. His baby girl, the one he'd died for, became a Dark-Hunter for - was dead, and yet she was in his arms for the first time in four long years.

Acheron and the Simi let them be for a few hours, Henrik confessing to his daughter all that had happened and why he'd been such an awful father. Buffy had cried, telling him _everything_, including things that he, as her father, should never have known. When she exhausted herself, Acheron reappeared.

"You can't stay here forever," he said bluntly. "Neither can she."

"I know. She deserves to go to heaven, and Dawn needs me -"

"Two weeks."

"What?"

"Dawn comes to stay with you in Spain for two weeks. Any longer than that, and you have to come up with a reason why her Dad _Hank_ is no where in sight," Acheron nodded to his reflection. Henrik was a little shocked to see his own face. He'd been Hank for hours, forgetting Henrik existed. "And Buffy's not done."

After a tearful good-bye and a reassurance that he would be back sooner than she thought, Henrik returned to his home in Madrid. Sheyle was standing stiffly in the hall, her arms crossed and standing beside an angry Dawn.

"Where's Hank?" Dawn demanded, glowering at him.

"I tried to tell her -" Sheyle started, looking nervously at her Dark-Hunter.

"Hank was called away suddenly. Business in L.A. I'm afraid," Henrik cut in, giving Sheyle her a 'shut up and go with it look'. "You must be Dawnie. I'm your cousin Henrik. But you can call me Padre, everyone seems to these days."

"Why? Are you a priest?"

"He lives like one," Sheyle muttered under her breath. Henrik gave her a look. Sheyle had been after him to go out and live his life as best he could. Of course, she was also happily dating another Squire, so she was predisposed to want everyone _else_ happy and in love.

"Something like that," Henrik sighed.

But two weeks was all he was destined to get with his youngest daughter. She'd only just warmed up to him, and was beginning to hate her father even more for his absence. She rarely talked about Buffy, and when she did she was extremely sad. His visits with Buffy too, became increasingly short, and she faded and became less substantial. The day it came for Dawn to go, he'd just held her for several long, awkward moments.

"I wish you could stay," he whispered.

"Me too, but Buffy...needs me," Dawn looked away. "All we have is each other now that.."

"I know. I'll call next Tuesday and we can talk about the new Harry Potter movie?"

"I'd like that."

It had been hard losing Dawn to whoever waited for her in Sunnydale, but it was even harder finding Buffy gone from Ash's home nearly three months later. He'd tore through the rooms, calling out her name before the bigger Dark-Hunter had stopped him.

"Her witch-y friend did a spell, Padre. Your girls are back together."

And he was all alone again.


	6. Five: Here I Come

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter, I own Sheyle.  
Summary: Hank Summers isnt the worlds greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain  
A/N: Because, seriously, how the _hell_ did they manage to keep that house on a fast-food restaurant worker's salary and with two of the occupants of the house being full-time students and no other job?  
A/N2: I apologize for the depress-o-rama. I can't seem to write Happy Fic for some crazy reason. *headdesk*

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

__

Five: Here I Come  
2003

Henrik slammed through the doors of Sanctuary wishing he could pick a fight with someone - anyone. Even the damn Peltier brothers would do. Hell, throw on Mama and Papa Bear too. He'd take them. The band skipped a note in Sweet Home Alabama and looked nervously between Acheron and Henrik. His long strides ate up the dance floor and he leaned heavily on the table of the booth Ash and the Simi were occupying.

"What. The. Fuck."

"Sorry, gonna have to clear that one up for me. I can't just randomly form coherent thoughts from your jacked up sentences," Acheron sounded bored, and Henrik knew he should be a little bit afraid when those shaded eyes swirled to face him. "And just who gave you permission to swing your ass on into New Orleans? Kyrian's got this place covered. You've got Madrid for a reason, _Padre_."

"Yeah, and that _fucking_ reason just got turned into California's biggest fucking sinkhole!"

"Oooh, Padre's girlies," the Simi whispered excitedly, chopping on a chicken wing doused in extra barbeque sauce..

"Language, Padre," Acheron snorted.

"Where are my _daughters_, Atlantean?" Henrik snarled, getting all in Ash's face.

"Back the fuck off Padre, before I make you," Acheron snarled back. "Your girls are safe. Both of 'em. And no, I couldn't have you distracted from your mission by informing you they were planning on nuking the high school - _again_ and taking the whole town with it."

"They're safe?" Henrik closed his eyes against the pang of tears he was man enough to let the Atlantean see, but not show the rest of the crowded bar.

Acheron lifted a brow and gave him a what-are-you-smoking look. Henrik tried not to laugh at that. His girls - while being angels sent from on high, in his honest opinion - had a knack for finding trouble. They were safe and that's all that mattered to him right now. He'd done everything he could to help them along the way, but he was still failing as a father. And it tore at him.

"You can only do so much," Acheron said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"I'd say you're only human, but we both know that's bullshit," Acheron gave a quick smile. "Besides, there's nothing you can do that you already haven't been doing."

"But I should be doing more," Henrik sighed, looking away from his commander.

It was then that he saw someone he almost recognized. A petite blonde sidling up to the bar, looking completely out of place. There was something about her...something that got his mind off of his daughters and Acheron.

"...so get your ass back to Madrid already," Acheron snapped his fingers in front of Henrik's face.

"I'm going," Henrik flipped him off, his attention fixed on the woman at the bar.

"Well, I suppose you can leave tomorrow," Acheron chuckled, following Henrik's gaze. "C'mon Simi."

Henrik nodded a goodbye to them and watched the woman out of the corner of his eye. She glanced over at him, smiling shyly at him. He shook his head. What was he thinking? The girl was probably the same age as his daughter, and he was a messed up warrior who hunted Daimons to keep them from devouring human souls. He leaned heavily against the booth.

"Hi."

Henrik jerked his head up and stared at the girl for a few minutes. She smiled at him and slipped into the seat across from him.

"This is the part where you say hi or hey or what's up back," a smirk formed in the corner of her mouth.

"Uh, hey. Can I help you with something?"

"Wow, six whole extra words, I think we're on a roll here."

"I can't get you a date with the guy who just left."

She jerked back and blinked at him a few times.

"I didn't come over here because of him. Even if he is pretty cute," a hint of a dimple formed in her cheek.

"Look, I'm not -"

"Are you gay? Because you don't give off that vibe," she muttered something else under her breath, but he didn't quite catch it with all the noise in the bar. "If you are, that's fine but -"

"I'm not. You're just...not my type."

"Really?" her lashes hooded her eyes from him. "Because you don't even _know_ what type of girl I am, Hank."

Dread skated down his spine. How could she possibly know his original name? And why had Ash even left him alone with her? He wished there wasn't a non-violence clause on the bar because if she was some hell-harpy trying to use him to get to his girls he was more than willing to fuck her up.

"Who are you?"

"It's Jaylin, _Henrik_," She chewed at her bottom lip. "But you knew me as _Joyce_, _Hank_."

Henrik stared at her completely confused. His hand itched to take a blade to the lying bitch, but the possibility that his ex-wife was sitting across from him wearing a brand-new face was a little appealing. He'd screwed things up royally with her, and he'd always yearned to go back and change things. But new face-and-form-Joyce was a little hard to swallow. _Says the guy wearing his own new face and form_.

"Buffy and Dawn are completely safe. Destroyed a town, but still breathing," Jaylin/Joyce took a sip of her drink and smiled at him. "I like the new bod, Henrik. What do you think of mine?"

"We need to find Ash," Henrik grabbed her hand and started to drag her out of the bar, ignoring the pointed looks the Peltiers were giving him.

"Oooh, kinky. I've never had a tripoli," Jaylin grinned, giggling behind him.

"Yeah, that settles it, you're _definitely _not my ex-wife," Henrik snapped.

"Please, just because I'm divorced doesn't mean I'm a prude. I've had sex on top of a cop car," Jaylin bumped heavily into his back as he stopped to stare at her. Remi Peltier gave her a once over from the door at that comment that made Henrik want to smack the insolent cub. Jaylin winked at him and giggled. Another slightly Joyce-ish thing to do. "Twice."


	7. Outro: What Hurts the Most

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: FR-15  
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter, I own Sheyle.  
Summary: Hank Summers isnt the worlds greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain  
A/N: This is the last chapter of HS,D-H...it was always only meant to be seven parts...but never fear, a flip-side and tie-off are in the works (read: almost done on the tie-off, need to iron out the flip-side.)

**__**

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

__

Outro: What Hurts the Most  
2003

After hours of prodding, and a few more of quality make-up sex (once he learned she wasn't evil and really _was_ his Joyce), Henrik found himself holed up in her apartment, catching up.

"That was you, in the cemetery, wasn't it?" Henrik murmured, playing with a strand of her hair.  
"Someone had to look after you, Hank," Joyce smiled, leaning up on one elbow. "You know that's one of your few vulnerabilities. Whatever possessed you to go into a graveyard?"  
"I'd just lost my wife," Henrik replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.  
"Ex. We'd been divorced for nearly six years."  
"Not by my choice," Before she could say anything to that, he pressed a finger to her lips. "I was half-way to coming back to you and Buffy when the demons killed me. We'd been making progress before..."  
"And have I told you how mad I am at you for dying on me and then pretending to get a Spanish mistress?" Her eyes shone with fresh tears as she burrowed herself deeper into his side.  
"Sheyle's like a daughter to me. She just got married, you know," Henrik smiled against her curls. "No one ever really took your place."  
"That's sweet."  
"It's also the truth. Between hunting down Daimons and trying to ease the way for the girls...there hasn't _been_ anyone to -" Henrik broke off, glancing away from her. "What _are_ you Joyce?"  
"What do you mean?" She looked down, not even bothering to pretend she was uncomfortable.  
"You _died_. You're not a Dark-Hunter, because you died of natural causes. And I wouldn't be able to be in the same room with you for long. I know there's other beings out there, so _what_ are you?"  
"It's kind of like a guardian angel gig," Joyce said several minutes later. "I watch over witches or supernaturally enhanced beings, or just normal humans that are going to be big players in future events."  
"So, youre basically a mother hen?" Henrik smiled at this. He could see Joyce being tapped for that kind of gig.  
"Yeah, when you put it that way, being a White-Lighter's kind of like that," she smiled. "My main charges are two boys around Buffy's age. One's a soldier who was friends with one of Buffy's ex-boyfriends, and the other is a demon hunter."  
"And they're gonna be key players?"  
"Yep, in someone's story," a knowing smile crossed her lips as she rested her head against his shoulder.  
"Then they're damn lucky they have you watching out for them," Henrik kissed her again, snuggling them deeper into the mattress. He'd missed this intimacy. "I wish we'd had someone watching out for us."  
"We did. How do you think we got these jobs?"  
"Look what we had to lose to get here."  
"You know... the girls _are_ in town," Joyce said quietly.  
"What?"  
"That's why I'm here, so I can see them," Joyce bit her lip. "Well, _part _of the reason I'm here. Graham's in the Quarter and Dean's in Baton Rouge, so _technically_ I'm on the job."  
"Where are they?" Henrik jumped from the bed, racing to gather his clothes. Joyce giggled at him and hurried to rush into her own clothing.  
"Where are you going, Hank?" Joyce cocked her head at him once they were both fully dressed and Henrik was half-way out the door.  
"To go find our daughters...and a cab first."

"I have a _much _faster means of transportation these days," Joyce shook her head and grabbed his hand.

She'd orbed them down an alleyway and pulled him into the bustling night. Henrik felt his breath catch in his chest when he spotted Buffy laughing at something a blonde man said to her, while Dawn was smiling at her sister's happy expression.

"He's in love with her, you know," Joyce murmured happily, winding her arm through his.  
"Kid deserves to be happy. She _died,_ you know," Henrik replied, his voice shaking a little.  
"I know. Someone pulled her into a warriors-for-the-light-holding place," Joyce shot him a look. "Willow was always meant to bring her back."  
"For him?"  
"Uh-huh."

While both of her parents were preoccupied with discussing Buffy, Dawn had noticed the attractive couple from across the square. Recognition hit her, and she was up on her feet before she could stop herself.

"Cousin Henrik?" Dawn called, startling both of them.  
"Crap, I forgot you played doting cousin for two weeks with her," Joyce squeaked, part of her dreading this meeting, and part of her thrilled at it.  
"So we play cousin and cousin's girlfriend. Deal with it," Henrik muttered under his breath. "Cousin Dawn! What are you doing here in New Orleans?"  
"Summer break, me and Buffy are just kicking foot loose and fancy free for a week, before Buffy has to go back to work," Dawn smiled, remembering her time with Henrik fondly, even if she'd meant to be spending it with Hank.  
"Dawn! What did I tell you about - who are you?" Buffy skidded to a halt beside her taller sister, the man coming in just behind her.  
"Your father's cousin, Henrik Somners, and this is my friend, Jaylin White," Henrik smiled at Buffy. "Dawn came to stay with me shortly after your mother passed. She was a wonderful woman."  
"I thought you stayed with Dad those two weeks in Spain?" Buffy shook her head and stared at her sister.  
"He couldn't be bothered and threw me off on poor Henrik," Dawn said bitterly. "But hanging with Henrik and his goddaughter Sheyle was pretty good. How is Sheyle?"  
"She just got married," Henrik smiled, thinking of the two Squires now living in his home.

"That's great!"  
"We've got to be going now, Henrik," Jaylin said quietly, her eyes never leaving her two daughters. "It was nice meeting you girls. Henrik's told me nothing but good things about you."  
"Nice meeting you too, Jaylin," Dawn smiled brightly. "Try and keep him in line, okay?"  
"I think I can manage that," Jaylin replied.

Henrik quickly gave his girls tight hugs, and shook hands with the man who turned out to be Joyce's charge, Graham. After a few more promises to keep in touch, and an exchange of phone numbers, Jaylin guided them back to the alleyway and orbed them to her apartment before the sun rose.

"I didn't think it would be so hard to see them again," Jaylin took a shuddering breath. "Was it hard to let Dawn go?"  
"It hurt like hell, but she had to be back there for when Buffy returned, and I couldn't explain away my absence forever," Henrik shrugged, not meeting her eyes.  
"We do what we have to, I guess. Keep a peripheral eye out for them," Jaylin swallowed down the sadness. "And we make most of what we've got in front of us."  
"Sounds like a plan, Mrs. Summers."  
"I thought so myself, Mr. Summers."


End file.
